


An Ugly Space

by clennam



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Mickey wants to talk, Sadness, Shameless Season 5, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 22:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19485298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clennam/pseuds/clennam
Summary: Based on a conversation that I wish Mickey and Ian could have had. Meant to be set sometime in season 5 but before the final episode.———Mickey glanced over at him. Then back down. Looking at him hurt.“I...you know I don’t really like talkin’ about my feelings and shit. But, uh, I just feel like I need to tell you,” he continued slowly. This vulnerability felt grossly foreign.“Tell me what?” Ian asked delicately, tilting his head to one side.“That...what you did to me was fucked up.”





	An Ugly Space

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a fic in many years. I only ever wrote smut when I did, and that stuffs coming, but I felt that this was more important right now. Hope you enjoy.

The peace between them was anything but. There was a certain, sickly tension in the air that sat like a carcinogenic lump in your fucking throat. It was cold, too--heavy jackets were necessary. The “peace” came from the fact that neither had said anything since they sat down. It was quiet.

And it was so for a long time. They sat next to each other, but the space between them is not one familiar to lovers. There were no fingers migrating slowly towards the other to close the space, no smiles exchanged, no legs spread wide open. Instead, they both sat there with their limbs twisting into themselves, into their bodies, one ankle crossing over the other and hands firmly balled into fists. Ian’s eyes looked anywhere but to his left. He slumped over a bit. This jacket was too tight on him at the armpits. These shoes had terrible arch support. Everything felt fucking terrible.

Mickey was the first to relax. He took a deep breath and moved his hands from his lap to behind him. He leaned back and directed his gaze up towards the late evening sky. He thought about the birds he heard tweeting earlier that day when he was walking back from the pharmacy. Ian needed more vitamins, and the little birds sang Mickey home. He thought it was nice. He brought his attention to the ground under them. The dirt was damp. He wondered if Ian’s pants would have a weird dirt print right on his ass when he got up. He moved himself back into an upright position and sniffled, eyes facing his lap.

“Listen, Ian,” he started. He swore he had seen Ian nearly jump out of his skin when the first syllable left his mouth.

Ian readjusted himself awkwardly. He relaxed and tensed up again, unsure of what to do with his body, dragging his thumbs nervously across his other fingertips. He clumsily turned his body to his left. He wanted to encourage Mickey to continue but found himself unable to speak. He gently nodded his head at him to affirm his engagement.

Mickey glanced over at him. Then back down. Looking at him hurt.

“I...you know I don’t really like talkin’ about my feelings and shit. But, uh, I just feel like I need to tell you,” he continued slowly. This vulnerability felt grossly foriegn.

“Tell me what?” Ian asked delicately, tilting his head to one side.

“That...what you did to me was fucked up.” Mickey sniffled and then scratched his nose. He felt Ian’s pupils burning holes into his jacket and so turned away as if he was trying to get away before Ian got to his skin. He interlocked his fingers with each other in his lap, twiddling his thumbs together.

“Okay,” Ian breathed out. He had no idea what else he could say, and he was unable to tell if Mickey had more to say or if that was it. He really hoped for more, but he couldn’t read him right then. He was sad that he couldn’t see Mickey’s face. He scooted closer, just barely, in an attempt to close up the emotional space between them, but Mickey tensed up again, his body becoming completely still. Ian scooted back. Mickey did not relax.

“I,” Mickey began again, more firmly this time, “know that you were sick. I know. I know you weren’t feelin’ like yourself.”

“Okay.”

“But,” Mickey whipped around to stare Ian dead in the eyes. Their foreheads were centimeters apart. The stillness intensified as they got closer to one another. His mouth hung open slightly and he let out a quiet, shaky sigh before continuing, “you cheated on me. I fucking came out for you, sat on my stupid ass worried about you like a fucking bitch, waited for you until morning like a fucking bitch, and you fucking _cheat_ on me.”

Ian sucked in his cheeks and looked down to his right.

“I came out for you, you piece of shit. That’s what I meant to fuckin’ tell ya. I fucking love you, and you fucking cheat on me.”

Mickey placed his hands behind himself and leaned his weight on them again. He stared at Ian. A moment of silence passed, and he bobbed his head at Ian while raising his eyebrows.

Another moment of silence. Mickey let out a much fuller sigh and turned his head to the left to look at the street near them, oddly devoid of cars. He wasn’t sure if a single other being had passed through the area since they got there. He searched for seemingly any sign of life. Now it was starting to get darker and simultaneously colder. He drew a small circle in the dirt with his right index finger. The earth moved clumsily under it. He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t even sure if Ian could come up with a response to what he said.

It was uncomfortably quiet again.

Ian’s bottom lip darted around from under his top lip to in between his teeth. His eyes scanned the ground to his right as if he were reading sentences in it. He’d hoped he be able to find the words he wanted to tell Mickey in there. He shivered and felt goosebumps rise up on the back of his neck. He looked up at the back of Mickey’s head. He wished Mickey would look at him. He really wished that Mickey would turn the fuck around, and they’d find some meaning and understanding in each other’s faces so this wouldn’t have to be so fucking hard and quiet and awkward. But Mickey wasn’t giving him that, so he decided to stop wishing for shit that wasn’t going to happen.

“Mickey,” Ian began. 

Mickey didn’t turn around. Ian saw his ears were getting red from the cold.

“Mickey. I’m sorry. I know I fucked up, and I hurt you, and I asked for things that were dangerous for you.” Ian’s eyes closed tightly. “I’m sorry that I left. I was hurt by you and Svetlana getting married, so I decided to go away for a while. I expected things from you that you just weren’t ready to give me, even though I saw that you wanted to. I know it’s hard to believe, but I thought about you every fucking day. Mickey,” Ian almost instinctively put his hand on Mickey’s shoulder. Mickey’s head turned around sharply, first looking at the large hand on his shoulder then into Ian’s eyes. “Every. Fucking day, Mick.”

Mickey started trembling. His emotional control was slipping, and he felt the hard lump in his throat again.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

Mickey gulped and looked down. “Didn’t have a choice.”

“Yes you did, and you chose to take care of me,” Ian said. “I’m sorry. You never expected anything from me. I’m sorry.”

Ian’s hand floated up to Mickey’s face, the backs of his fingers gently running over the other boy’s cheek, bouncing lightly over his stubble. Ian cracked a small smile. His hand slid back down to Mickey’s shoulder, then down his arm, finally landing on top of his hand. Ian copied his position of leaning back and stared ahead. Mickey looked up at Ian and then ahead, as well.

Quiet again, but differently.

“Thanks,” Mickey said eventually. 

Ian turned his head back to his left one more time, smiling. He leaned over and gently kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. He laid his head down on Mickey’s shoulder, his thumb lightly rubbing the back of Mickey’s hand. Mickey pressed his head on top of Ian’s. And with asses damp and horrendous yellow street lights illuminating them, they sat quietly but comfortably, listening to the L roar on its tracks in the distance.


End file.
